


Thirty one plus one

by Aixxx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Brain Cancer, Cancer, Character Death, Death, Diary/Journal, Drama, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Friendship, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guilt, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Lack of Communication, Letters, Mentions of Cancer, Mentor Severus Snape, Muggles, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic, Sirius is Dead, Slice of Life, Tragedy, Weird Fluff, escaping Hogwarts, eventual adoption, lack of focus, lack of judgment, last wishes, limited time, uncaring Remus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aixxx/pseuds/Aixxx
Summary: Harry's only rejoice in these last few months is that he has his list. He would go down for sure, but before he does, he wants to make sure he gets to do everything on the list. To die without any regret. But what does Snape have to do with this?Snape oddly agrees to fulfill Harry's last dying wishes, whirls him from his sickbed, and takes him all around the world, following a seemingly bizarre list of wishes, both find something they never dreamed of having. a family.





	1. Last dying wish(es)

Number 0. Last dying wish(es) 

Every person on this planet has a story to tell. Every person on this planet matters. Each person has their own interests and dislikes, each have abilities that others don't. The person you pass by in the streets, the guy who shoulders you in a hurry, the nobody who is anywhere and everywhere at the same time. The nobody who is dying of cancer. 

Harry James Potter is a nobody, I'm sixteen, I'm an orphan, though technically I still have living relatives. I'd rather not mention much about them other than the fact that, I used to live with them in Surrey as a child, in private drive, number four. I attended school, I had a few friends, a godfather who died when I was fifteen as he was pushed in a magical veil that traveled to the unknown....

I had likes, and dislikes. I had a snowy owl as a pet. I loved Quidditch, I was actually the youngest seeker in my team once. I liked reading books, I liked eating junk food and I loved jazz. In every definition of the word, I was boring. 

I hated this one kid at my school named Draco Malfoy? I had a crush on my bushy head friend for about three years before I realized that it was just that. A teenage crush. I highly disliked my potion Professor once? (that one is a long story) for a long period of time I also hated my parents for dying and leaving me with my abusive relatives, and I hated being in pain. Maybe karma had it right spot on. 

I am a nobody with brain cancer, and up until now, I had four months to live. I did a lot of things in these last four months, I made some good memories, cleared up my rivalries with a lot of people, did things here and there, even helped madam Pince (the librarian) to reorganize the whole library again all by hand and without an ounce of magic. 

Tomorrow, my four months will be up, you see, I have an appointment of some kind tomorrow, with a curious thing called death. I know my time is up, you could probably see the evidence all over my sloppy handwriting, although Hermione believes there is no difference. 

For those of you who cared, who saw me as Harry and nothing more or less, or even for some of you who don't know me and had just stumbled upon this note, or you're just reading it out of your sick fantasy... This is my will. 

Yes. This is the last will and testament of Harry James Potter. I assure you all now, that while writing this, I had been entirely lucid, not under any pressure or influence of any kinds of substances, or drugs. This is the fantastic me. 

That would be a lie though, while the reserving potion was definitely not a harmful drug, it was one of the very few potions that could keep me lucid at this stage. I only had one vial, that gave me only one day to be myself. The one that I used today, to wrap up... My life, I suppose. Don't tell Severus though, it's our secret for now. 

I don't have a lot to give away, so let's get over with that and get to the important stuff ( I'm getting dizzy already) but rest assured, I wasn't an asshole. I already left the things that needed to be left, I forgave those I needed to forgive, and I have already regretted every mistake in my life long before I have written this. There is no unfinished business. There never is with dying people. 

Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant to say, was that you will never find a dying person (who knows he's dying) to be unprepared. Unless the poor sod has been told that he's dying minutes away from dying. In that case, that guy would have every right to be totally unprepared. 

Sorry for the rambling, my point was that I had finished my business in this world and am probably moving on as you guys are reading this. (Not really. I'm terrified.) 

Before I get to what I really wanted to say, there's one thing. I know you're curious, I know you're confused, flabbergasted, angry and probably want to bring me back to life just to kill me again. But wait! Stop doing whatever you're doing now, stop crying, stop frowning, and put the wand away. 

I have told you that I had more time. That I was fine and the cancer hadn't gone that bad yet. That's the lie I told everyone except my healers and the headmaster, who were in on everything. They didn't stop me from lying, but they didn't overly encouraged it either. 

I'm such a bastard. You'll probably be thinking. I did that to a lot of people. Which makes me a liar, because what I said was not true in the slightest. I was dying when I said all those crap, and if there is one, only one, regret I ever had in these sixteen years is that I lied. 

I'm asking for forgiveness. If I hadn't lied, you wouldn't be there right now, reading my will or weeping over my dead fuming corpse ( sorry. That was Insensitive), if I hadn't mustered up a string of lies to keep you out of my life, I wouldn't have been prepared. I wouldn't have been satisfied. 

So, yeah, I know it's selfish, and I know you're thinking I'm such an ass in my own funeral ( I really need to stop writing like this about my own death) but I had to do it. And I will do it again in another life. 

I had a list. /The/ list, of things I wanted to do before I died. At first it was this measly little thing, simple mundane activities that I wanted to do before I died, you know... Like reading this book, or managing to win a food marathon, have sex (still a priority of mine) or meet a famous person. (the irony) 

Everything a dying teenager would want to do before his birthday, which by chance also turned out to be the date of his untimely death.

These kind of stuff, soon escalated into a gigantic list of dying wishes. After the panic kicked in and I realized that I didn't want to die, and I had literally countless opportunities and things that I wanted to do, and I couldn't because I was dying, well... That was when things got... Out of hand.

I wanted to swim with whales, wanted to scale Everest, I wanted to make the biggest ice cream sandwich that there was in the record book of ice cream sandwiches, I even wanted to be in a threesome and have dinner with the Beatles. 

Yeah, crazy stuff. 

I had written down so many things that if I gathered them all together, the list alone could be turned into a book. 

I calmed down eventually, the ideas died with each part of me. And I rationalized myself. I decided that, if I really wanted to do these things before I died, I had to tune it down a bit and get over the crazy ones in order to satisfy my other thirsts. 

I finally settled down on a number. Thirty one. That was my birthday though, thirty first of July. I calculated, if I had four months to live, then I had four months until my birthday, and if I had that, then I could grant my own wishes just in time before I died. As a late birthday gift to myself per se.

It was a brilliant idea and I was proud of myself, so I got my long scroll of crazy ideas and thought ; why the hell not? If I was about to die a painful death I certainly did not deserve then I might as well knock myself out! 

I divided my list into two parts, part one was my every wish as a child, every wistful thinking that was never granted for me as kid, who was neglected. The other half, was the crazy stuff the teenage me wanted... Yes... Like having sex. 

Don't tell me you didn't think about it. I mean if you're sixteen, and you're also dying and a Virgin above everything else... You do the math. 

It got thirty one in total, the perfect number for me to achieve, also a very ironic number, since it's a direct cause for my parent's death. 

Moving on, there was only one problem with my fantastically designed plan. I was still in school. 

I attended Hogwarts school of wizardry and witchcraft, which is also a boarding magical school, dropping out of that while I had no parent or didn't have enough strength to look after myself was a problem. 

I had to drop out of school, I decided, I couldn't just lie in the infirmary and waste my remaining time sulking on why's and how's. I wanted to drain every bloody second out of that four months.

What happened after that was simply history. Something that I'd definitely would like to tell you all about. It's actually one of the reasons why, I sound so okay with dying (not really, I'm terrified.)

But that is for another time.

My hand is getting tired and I'm about to sleep for the last time. I have many things to explain, to confess, to declare, alas, I don't have the strength anymore. But that's okay, because I have foreseen this, and I have been prepared. 

There are forty two envelopes under the pillow I'm putting my head upon. Thirty one of those are the recording of my wishes, of how they went and If they turned out to be as good and as satisfying as I had imagine them to be. They tell Harry nobody's story. The nobody who died of cancer. 

Ten of those letters are dedicated to the ten people I held dear, and one particular letter was addressed to one Severus Snape. 

Sev. If you're reading this now, or if you found my corpse in the morning lying on the bed... I'm sorry. 

I know I promised that I try to hold on, to fight this so you could adopt me. So that we could be a family after this was all over... But I can't. I'm sorry, but I know death has come for me. And that is why I'm so sad. I'm sorry and I know how awful it must be, that you granted my every wish and I couldn't grant only one.   
These past few months, you taught me a lot of things, things that I couldn't have otherwise learned or realized by myself. I thought I knew what a parent's love felt like. But I didn't. I'm not even sure if I do now. You tried though, and that has to count for something... Right? 

I know it's stupid, and selfish. But I signed the papers anyway, the adoption papers. They're folded in your envelope, neatly stacked within the pages of our adventures together. Waiting to be signed over by you and the ministry. 

You followed me through everything from day one, you made my dying days into something wonderful, and... And I would always be proud... Of calling you... My father. Maybe later. Maybe in another life. But I needed to get this off my chest before I succumbed to death's last bow. ( Pardon me. I was reading poetry earlier)   
I love you Severus Snape, and you were the Dad I never had. 

This is my last wish. Not the thirty second wish. This is wish number thirty one plus one. 

Dad, would you still adopt me if I was dead?


	2. Number I; Leave my name behind (p.1)

Number I. Leave my name behind (p.1) 

When I was well under the treatment and told that I have a very low chance at living, I knew that was it. 

I sucked at the very thing, I couldn't possibly have. I couldn't live. That statement shook me to the very bones.

As a sixteen year old with brain cancer, my chances were even lower from the start, I was diagnosed when the tumor had progressed too far, too far to prevent it from getting worse, grade four patients only had up to eighteen months tops. 

My godfather had only died a week prior my diagnosis. There's not much you should know about him. He was lively, the bright sun in my rainy days, and honestly, he and Remus were everything I ever expected of parents. 

That was until Sirius died. His deranged cousin, and the only person I hate more than you know who, Bellatrix Lestrange, pushed Sirius into a magical veil to oblivion, and just like that, everything went out of spiral. 

I started to feel sick pretty much after I had returned back to Hogwarts. The sickness wasn't sudden, the buzzing was always there, had been ever since last summer. But after getting possessed by a maniac and then reliving your worst nightmares for weeks, I think the cancer had to give in eventually. 

It crept up to me gradually, with scrupulous and through steps, slow and steady. A cough here, a sneeze there, puking, feeling feverish, raw headaches with no remedy. I was too mindless and hesitate to report to the infirmary, and that was my first mistake. 

I was so sick by the end of the week that I could barely move. Even though my friends were worried, they mistook my general unwell pallid demeanor with grief. Dumbledore knew something was up when I started skipping classes and thought, it was somehow a side-effect to being possessed and having my mind messed with. 

I didn't take it too seriously too, I was wallowing in grief as well, and getting sick out of nowhere was not a new occurrence to me.

That was until a faithful Monday at the peak of the spring. Double potions with Snape, the one class I couldn't skip even if Death was hot on my tail that very moment. Snape had made it pretty clear that skipping would get us a straight zero for the whole semester, and that we were obligated to attend classes, 'as there is no reason for you dunderheads to skip ' in the first place. 

Anyways, with Hermione's insistence, and Ron's nervous twitching I somehow found myself in the back row, head bobbing and eyes drooping, nose stuffy and feeling dizzy. I remember feeling /wrong/. 

As usual, Snape strode into the class room dramatically, his black robes bellowing behind him as he went, a flick of his wand, and the door was slammed shut. I was shivering. Just noticing how cold it was down here in the dungeons. 

Ten minutes into Snape's lecture and I was getting worried about myself, I couldn't digest a word out of the man's blurred voice, I was shivering like a leaf, beads of sweat coated my face, and my hands were shaking. I don't recollect the following events much after that point... There was a stab of a sudden pain into my skull and I must have cried out, because every gawking head turned to me. 

Snape's infamous sneer died on his lips the moment his startled gaze caught my feverish eyes, the dreadful teacher raced and caught my deformed body as I crumbled down on my bench, whimpering pathetically from the pulsing pain in my head, like a hot knife stabbing me over, and over and over again. Fuming at the mouth and convulsing like I was under the Cruciatus. 

I was put under emergency treatment. 

Madam Pomfrey thought the diagnosis was wrong, even went so far and asked for medical advice from several specialists from Mungo's and a muggle friend of hers to confirm, that yes, Harry freaking Potter had a tumor the size of a melon snuggled deep in his brain. Weaved through the core of the tissue, impulsive and ready to do him in. 

But it made sense now, everything did. My abrupt mood swings all year long, changes in personality, crooked judgment, and nightmares that often had nothing to do with Voldemort, headaches that passed away briefly but left a subtle sting in my forehead as reminder. It seemed that everything just clicked. 

Much like every other imminent crap that usually latched on to me for kill. Every year. 

I had cancer. Brain cancer. The tumor was malignant, aggressive, cancerous, and quite frankly growing everyday. As I already said, life had it right by striking me with a grade four cancer out of nowhere. 

That was literally the last thing I had foreseen as possible out comes to my unpredictable future. I expected to die a hero, in a battle, brave, or at least half decent. Dying with cancer, for someone like me was like dying by slipping on a peeled off banana skin. It was pathetic, and frankly, precipitous. 

I didn't see much of school after that, seeing as Sirius' death occurred a day after Christmas, I must have lost the whole spring term. But I couldn't say for sure, confusing hallucinations with reality was a basic side effect of brain cancer. 

No one seemed to count depression in as well. I was already feeling crappy when I was grieving for a family member loss, now I was guilty for assuming that I would in all like hood, end up with him and my parents in a short while and saw no point in grieving anymore. That made me feel guilty for abandoning Remus. 

Remus couldn't come. I don't know why, maybe he was too wallowed in his grief like he was when my parents died, maybe he had told me the reason and I had simply forgotten... I just knew that he couldn't make it. 

The man was strange, very kind and endearing in his own way, but also not dependable at all. If Sirius hadn't intervened in my life, I doubted Remus would have ever pursued to keep in contact with me. 

"Decathect." I tried to pronounce clearly. 

It was my word of the day. 

( a plan Hermione came up with to help expand my limited vocabulary recently. ). The word itself meant gradually detaching oneself emotionally from a loved one or an object because the thing was about to die... It made me think of Remus, every time that I rolled the word over my tongue. 

So without Remus or Sirius by my side, I bore treatment and chemo and potions and this shit and that, I let them try new methods like I was their lab rat, let them perform several unsuccessful surgeries to get the tumor out, but it back fired, as another small tumor started springing from the back of my head. 

That was when the healers slowly started to hint at the possibility of me not making it as long as they had hoped. It was subtle, Pomfrey out right refused to indicate any signs of their failure, but the other healer ( Flare... Something, I never remembered. Tall, brunette with a Stern attitude Mcgonagal would be proud of) said that she would've started getting her priorities straight if it was her in my place. 

I told her. "You have really terrible bedside manner Mrs. Healer. And also, I would like to switch places with you if possible." 

She looked so genuinely shocked that I figured, /I / was the one misunderstanding her statement. 

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it like that." from her quivering voice, I figured I might have gone a little too hard on her. Or have misheard her words. It wouldn't be the first time, but that wasn't the point. 

Backing up my almost fake claim, the Weasleys were livid when they found out, out raged, indignant, Ron out right gave her the finger and Mrs. Weasley didn't bat an eye in response.

I felt appreciated, but I needed the healer, and I realized that somewhere down the line, it might have been my fault as well. So I gently advised them that it was against murdering my oncologist thus the misunderstanding was solved.

But that was only the beginning. 

My mood swings became legendary, throwing tantrums and working myself up over mundane stuff soon came to be my favorite hobby as I was rather lonely in the infirmary. I loved it when the others had no choice but to tolerate my general bitchiness, but then I felt guilty. I'm sorries were like candies rolling off my tongue.   
I could die at any moment, any time of the day, or in my sleep, in a blink, and I would have died insulting my loved ones. Life sucked, and sometimes... I couldn't just wait to die already. 

Not that I was complaining for my extra time here, though, the healers had originally speculated ten weeks for me to live, any time beyond that period was just life doing its thing. 

I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Don't get me wrong, cause sometimes it really did worth it,But other times...

Take today as an example, today's a bad day. I knew that the moment I woke up with an intense pain in my eyes again, the tumor must be swelling again; Generally the days I couldn't see were the worst, the blindness drove me insane.

"Decathect." I mumbled, willing to detach myself from my body today. 

Groaning, I turned my head and cursed, even while being blind I could tell that my vision was titled and my head felt absurdly heavy. My hand fumbled for the pitcher set on the night stand, among many other things. 

"I should get a bottle." I bit out, as some of the water sloshed down on my arm and the rest just drenched down my sheets. My hand gave a sudden rattling tremor and I cursed, the pitcher slipping from my hand altogether, shattering against the ground, splashing water and glass splinters all around the floor. 

I winced at the sound and shook off my hand to shrug off the dripping water. 

"Potter! What on earth are you doing?!!" the loud shrill voice of the matron basically shook the infirmary as she bustled in my ward, undoubtedly with a scowl on her face. 

"Sorry." I mumbled meekly.

She clicked her tongue and there was a loud whooshing sound, I felt my hands dry immediately. 

"Honestly, how many time do I have to tell you boy? My office is just at the end of the hall! Asking for help doesn't make you much of a wimp Potter!" 

"I was just thirsty." I protested quietly, knowing better than to out right argue with her. She was the one with the wand after all. 

"That's the point!" 

"Then get me a bottle from now on." 

I had cancer, and yes I was currently blind and I could probably die at any moment, but I wasn't crippled (Entirely) , and asking for help over every little thing was just... Not my thing. Not when I could do them myself. 

/She/ on the other hand, babied me to the point that hiding seemed more prudent for me than telling her my symptoms. 

"I can't argue with that Mr. Potter. How are you feeling this morning?" like crap. Titled vision, blindness, dizziness, slight nausea, and maybe a tinge of headache forming. This day was one of /those/ days. 

I had to think for a moment. "Jolly." I nodded as I declared. 

She scoffed and I instinctively knew she was shaking her head at my immaturity, or maybe in pity. 

"Pain level." 

"A four?" not even that high, not yet anyway. I kept the large numbers under my belt for rainy days, I never flashed out chubby numbers like eight and nine. Those were for when things went shitty bad, and there was no longer any resistance to deflate the pain. Those were my secret weapon, so to speak. 

Ten was my ' I don't want to die but I'm probably am ' number. 

"Not downplaying anything I should hope?" she ran a scan anyways, and I let her do her thing, knowing the exact diagnosis by heart.

"Double the pain potions, no strenuous moves, and light meals with no sugar. The swelling in your eyes would deflate by late evening if you rest /properly/... Do you hear me Mr. Potter?" 

"Well, there goes my sky diving schedule this evening... Honestly, It's not like I had any other plans to spend my day. It's just me and my bed." 

"Feeling cheeky this morning?" I sat up promptly. 

My kneecap dipped on the soaked bedsheet and I instinctively shivered, filling my stomach curl as I suddenly had the feeling that my bladder was uncomfortably full. 

"Oh no."

With a wince, I realized that I needed the bathroom. Right now. oh well...

Pomfrey was still talking. "And due on a pain killer. What... What are you doing?! Lie back down!" 

I groaned and pushed her away. My hands blindly in front of me for protection. "I need to use the bathroom." the need was sudden and urgent. Not like I was dying of thirst a minute ago. 

"Well if you just let me..." 

Indignantly, I flipped her off. "Don't you even dare suggest that again!" I would never let /any/ living soul to put that spell on me again, it was the most traumatic thing that had happened to me /down there /. I preferred to pee on my own, thank you very much. 

She tried to lower me down and I blindly pawed at her hands, weakly trying to swing my legs over the edge to hop down. 

"Don't be ridiculous.." In a flash, I got up anyways and hopped off the bed, nearly knocking down the trays again. (this wasn't the first time.) my painfully obvious lack in coordination was one of the obvious symptoms. Then there was the blindness. 

"Potter!" she growled, I heard her expertly whipping her wand out, before trying to immobilize me. Trying to dodge, I accidently stepped on a large splint of glass and nearly jumped out of my skin. 

It took me a moment to realize that I should be feeling pain. 

"Gahhhh!" I cried out, and flopped back down on the bed, clutching my injured foot to my chest. She waved her wand, wrapped my foot in something wet and I cringed.

It felt icky and gross on my foot. I hated it. 

"You idiotic boy! Stay still! Honestly, you just tend to make things worse don't you? Bustling around like a child, it's not like you're half blind! Hold that to your foot, I'll be back with a blood replenishing potion and a pain killer." something cool washed over my toe again and the glass was quickly removed, I grimaced, and made a move to get comfortable before I realized I was stuck to the bed as well. 

"Hey!" 

Pomfrey huffed, most definitely with her hands on her hips. "I learnt my lesson Potter. Sit still!"

I sulked and crossed my arms, completely forgetting the cool rag I was supposed to press on the wound. 

What a shitty morning. I thought savagely. Nothing could possibly make it worse than what It was. 

Apparently it could. My head fell on my left shoulder from the imaginary weight, and my hands shook like the womping willow in a rampage. That was when Snape decided to grace me with his presence. 

"Stop squirming Davies! I am quite aggravated by your appearances as it is without having to bear the insufferable expressions in the mix as well!" I could feel the reek of that sneer from where I was forced to sit down, I heard muffled protests as the student was guided to a bed behind me, Snape berating the poor sod all the while. 

It was Michael. He was an average resident here. Hufflepuff's Neville, so to speak. 

"Hi Michael." I greeted he thirteen year old as I grinned, my unseeing eyes crinkled. My head was still awkwardly titled to the left. Like a total creep.   
A muffled response replied and I only smiled. 

"Potter. Mind your own business." Snape snapped, sounding quite mad. Michael must have melted his cauldron or something. It wouldn't be the first time. 

"Jolly morning Professor?" Call me whatever you want, but annoying Snape never got old. Specially now that he couldn't out right beat me into a pulp with his biting words anymore.

"Potter. Not today." the man warned, surely wagging a finger as he glanced at his other student with disgust. 

"Not a Jolly morning then?" I think I would miss him the most when I died. Something in that statement sounded wrong in my mind but I shrugged it off.

The man bristled, and God... The pain and that little bit of self preservation was what held me back from laughing my ass off. 

"You are insufferable." I wasn't sure if he meant me or Michael who was trying to bit down his chuckles by muffling his face with something. 

"I would take that as a compliment any day Professor." I couldn't turn, and he couldn't see that I was having a bad day today, my eyes were disgustingly swelled shut and my face had kind of... Popped. Not a pretty face. 

"It's not too late to deduce points Potter, if you weren't in the hospital already..." 

He pitied me too. That's mainly the reason why he didn't get as mad anymore when I was my cheeky self... And not going off the handle and doing...Well what Snape usually did when I was being unruly. 

I hated it. 

I took another direction to our morning small talk. "If it's the usual, the soothing balm is in the last cupboard to the left Michael, fetch me a glass of water while you're at it?" maybe a neck brace too, my neck would snap if it stayed titled like this for another minute.

"Playing healer now Potter? Already strutting around infirmary aren't we?" Nope. He was back. 

"Exactly the essence of your insolent father." But that was the fun. 

"Well I am his son. So, is it the usual?"

He ignored me. "Where's madam Pomfrey?" 

"Hopefully back soon. I really need to use the loo." I dead-panned.

The man gnarled, and Michael yelped. I could tell the man was really pissed this morning.

"I don't have the nerve for this. Davies, stay here until the matron returns, since Potter is quite adequate at story telling, I believe there wouldn't be any trouble." 

"Oh, you're already leaving?" I feigned surprise, struggling to keep my head upright.

Snape, oblivious to my struggle, berated me. "I can deduce points for your cheek alone Potter. Remember that." 

I grinned. "Not when I tell everyone that you left an injured student and an invalid at the infirmary all by themselves. Am I right Mike?"

"I swear to merlin..."

"Sorry sir. I'm feeling bubbly this morning." and quite nauseas. Where was Pomfrey? 

"I figured, Potter. You are quite more often than not, still ten points for your cheek. And you Davies... Thirty points from hufflepuff for disobedience and wasting valuable ingredients. Also two weeks worth of detention with me, feel free to ask Potter about the cleaning solution we use for cauldrons. He's quite an expert." 

"I'm always glad to be of help." 

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and I... Ahh, Madam Pomfrey." the sharp click of her shoes indicated her return. Even while being blind I knew she had a tray in her hands. Probably my breakfast and potions. 

"Good morning Severus. Oh dear, is that Davies?" 

"I recommended the soothing balm." I interjected cheerily. 

She clicked her tongue."You recommended wrong Mr. Potter, now wait for me to just fix this poor thing..." she flicked her wand and Mike whimpered.   
The matron instructed him to drink something and the boy quieted down with a groan. I wished she would be finished with him already to take a look at me. My pain levels were rapidly increasing. 

"Another melted cauldron?" I heard her asking the teacher. Snape must have nodded.

"Exploded right in his face, and before you say; yes, I did warn those dunderheads about the... Dramatic nature of acidic ingredients . Honestly..." he sounded so disappointed that I really felt bad for him. Just a little bit though. 

"Told you it was the usual." I drawled out. 

"Potter." Snape growled out in warning. 

"Sorry." 

After Mike was patched up, and I was seconds away from voicing my complaints, Pomfrey decided to speak up again. 

"Now that you're here, Potter needs another batch of those special pain relievers Severus, maybe by this evening? He has chemo tomorrow." 

"I didn't see him writhing in pain when he was running his mouth at me Madam." the man replied bluntly.

Poppy gasped. "Severus..." 

"I will drop the batch before dinner this evening, I am occupied otherwise later in the night." 

My eyes hurt.

"Very well Severus. Still feeling the urge to use the bathroom Potter?" 

"Quite. I'm dizzy too." simple sentences. I thought. I should stick to simple sentences to avoid difficulty with speech for the time being. 

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry Potter. hang on there. Severus? Take young Davies with you, he is mostly fine. Avoid hot or lukewarm water for a while, yes Mr. Davies? Here's the balm." 

I couldn't stop myself. "I told you..." 

"Yes, yes Potter. We know. On your way you idiotic boy, I don't have all day." 

I swear that the sticking curse was the only thing keeping me upright by then, the headache started building up behind my temples and near my scar, I felt nauseous and needed to pee and I was thirsty all at the same time. It wasn't a good feeling. 

"Madam Pomfrey, I'm starting to feel squeamish." the word ' squeamish ' turned out more like ' smoochy ' but I suppose she got the meaning. 

I couldn't see her, but a moment passed and I was being gently lowered in my bed, feeling a vial press up to me lips as it urged me to drink, my foot in the air. I felt so immensely glad that I didn't have to hold my head upright anymore, I almost choked. 

"Drink this right up child, I don't want to see a single drop remain. As for the bathroom, you might have to wait a little or I can just put on the spell. How are your eyes?" there was a pause, then another, and I instantly felt a little better. 

"Burning. Can I have some dreamless sleep potion?" because I knew the pain was about to come, and even with the pain killers....

A hand went through my thinning hair and brushed a few strays away from my burning forehead. 

Normal. I exhaled shakily. This was normal, I was having a bad day and this was only a four at its best. 

Her voice was throughly laced with pity and deep regret. "I'm afraid not Potter. You had one last night, and you aren't allowed a dose before chemotherapy anyways." 

"Brilliant." I whimpered and rolled over, feeling hot and cold, shivering and sweating at the same time, my eyes burning as the morning passed excruciatingly.   
My thoughts weren't deep, and I floated between unconsciousness and agonizing awareness for about the whole day. 

My eyes did regain their vision sometime after lunch, but even without the glasses I was advised to avoid using them to reduce pressure on my skull.

The moment that I felt my tear ducts could handle drowning me in my own tears, I started the water works. Pomfrey knew better than to interrupt me while weeping in despair like I was doing now, the first few times she tried... Well, let's just say it did not end well for neither of us. 

She liked to call it emotional instability, I liked to call it ' being afraid of death'. Not much difference. 

In my hands, I sloppily held on my creased parchment and smashed it to my chest as I wept, unable to stop the sobs from rattling my body, rivers of utter devastation and loneliness crashed into me in gigantic waves and I was all alone in the infirmary. 

I didn't even know why I was crying, it could have been the pain, maybe even my upcoming death, which did not excite me in the slightest, or maybe it was because of those lost opportunities that I now held to my chest. Soon to be granted. Soon.

That's what they were, before they turned to wishes. Lost opportunities with no sense of redemption. Things that I never got to taste and never will.   
Snape was the one who approached me whilst in my break down, carrying the batch of potions as promised. He sneered at first, vanished the batch and stiffly lowered himself on a chair next to my bed, staring at me blankly with his annoying stoic face.

"Why are you staring at me?" I asked sloppily, my voice wet with tears. He shrugged. 

"Why are you crying? Are you in pain?" he knew Pomfrey wouldn't let me seat here crying from pain, so what did he mean by that sentence? I shrugged, the parchment clenched in my palm. 

"Do you want me to ask for a healer?" I wiped my tears and snot with the back of my hand.

"No." I whimpered miserably. Quite disturbed that he had interrupted my tantrum. 

"Then why are you bawling?" he asked dryly.

"I don't want to die." I sniffed. So that's why I was crying. A moment ago, I had no idea that was the reason.

"It's not in your hands Potter. People die, all of us, some sooner than the other." he said passively. 

This was not what anyone else would have said to a guy with cancer, I had no idea how I felt about that.

"It's not fair." I pouted, like a petulant baby. 

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Life isn't fair Potter. You have to learn and deal with it, if anything, you should know that better than anyone." 

I'll tell Pomfrey! I thought angrily. Who this bastard thought he was? Who would say such an awful thing to someone who has cancer?! Picking on me like that? How insensitive! 

I cried some more, while he sat quietly next to me, my parchment in his hands as he read over the list blankly, his expression never wavering. Betraying nothing. 

"Potter..." 

"I ate you." I sniffed pathetically. 

"I'm quite sure, you meant 'hate' Mr. Potter." he corrected and I bristled. 

"Duck off!" I wished I had another pillow to dump on him, or maybe holler for Pomfrey to throw him out of the ward. Such a git!

The teacher sighed, nodding at my parchment in his hands."What's this Potter?" 

I did a double take. "My lips. Give them badge!" I cringed at my own choice of words, but Snape pretended it was completely comprehensive. 

"Yes, I am aware it's a list Mr. Potter. And it's yours, what is it about?" I knew that the man wanted to humiliate me farther by making me talk, when he knew I couldn't talk when I was this upset, so instead I extended my hand and gestured for my list. He gave it back without a protest, seeming deep in his thoughts. 

"You wanted to run away Potter. Weren't you?" he sneered. "Albus did not mention it to any of the staff, so obviously you were..." 

"It's privacy!" 

Private. I should have said private. As I scrambled to fix my mistake, Snape nodded.

"I know it's a private matter. But I think he would have at least mentioned it. Unless he doesn't know, you're such an idiot Potter." just like your father. Was left hanging in the air.

"That's none. Of. Your. Business. Stop. Harassing. Me." I bit my sentence out word by word to make sure that I get everything right. Normally I hadn't that much of an issue with speech difficultly, and could wear it off in everyone's absence.

But when I was pissed off, and this bastard just kept picking on me, my tongue twisted all on its own, and words scrambled out faster than my brain could process them. 

"Thought you would pack a bag, pick up a tree branch and out right walk out of the castle? Even your father had more self preservation and wits than that."   
Actually, no, I did not want to run away and grant my own dying wishes all by my own. Though, I wasn't an idiot. I never even intended to tell anyone about this parchment, as it was nothing but a glaring disappointment to me. To my life as a whole and of how little I had accomplished. 

"Go. Go." I tried to be as menacing as I could manage, but I sounded more like a toddler. 

He was so fun in the morning! Why was he acting so mean now?!

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to come check on me, having returned from her office, and I couldn't be more grateful. 

"What's going on here?" she saw my red, tear streaked face, and the sneser on Snape's disgusting face before she flew off the handle. 

"Severus?! What are you doing to him? Honestly, he's sick!"

Snape fixed his face cooly, and stood up, his long black robe flipping over his overcoat as he did.

"Chill down Poppy. Potter was already crying when I came here. I only came to drop off the whelp's potions. I will take my leave now." in my desperation to get away from the git, I didn't even notice that he took my parchment with him as he left the infirmary, Pomfrey's scowling following him closely behind.


End file.
